


black satin and steel bones

by annella



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Crossdressing, Lingerie, M/M, Mild Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:27:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29458995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annella/pseuds/annella
Summary: Tseng caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrored back of the bar as he approached, and he almost gasped as he slid onto a stool and crossed his legs. He barely recognised the person in the mirror; this tall, dark haired, dark eyed woman with vivid red lipstick and nails, sultry and languid.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	black satin and steel bones

Everything was …. _tight._ The shoes pinched his toes, the stockings hugged his thighs in an unfamiliar way. The underwear—the less said about that, the better. The garter belt wrapped around his waist felt odd, sitting a good inch or so higher than the waistband of his trousers normally did. And the corset—

Tseng slowly inhaled, filling his lungs. It was hard to get a good deep breath in this contraption as it cinched his already narrow waist tight, small enough that a large pair of hands could probably span him. 

He thought of Rufus’ hands doing just that and shivered, his mind conjuring up the image of Rufus’ pale, slender fingers tracing over the shape the corset gave him, curved lines where Tseng was straight up and down, and he had to abruptly stop that train of thought as warmth pooled in his groin.

“Alright, sweetie?” The man whose lap Tseng was perched on ran a clumsy hand up Tseng’s side, and he shivered again, this time in disgust. It cooled his arousal, much to his relief. The large, sweaty hand caressed his hair, trailing down the lightly curled length hanging loose down his back, and Tseng fought back a snarl. He hated people touching his hair; most of the time, the Turks uniform and a glare was enough to warn away anyone who might be feeling particularly touchy, but right now he had to suck it up and deal with it. 

Perhaps Rufus would brush his hair for him later to rid him of the crawling sensation of strange fingers on his scalp. Rufus was the one person allowed to stroke Tseng’s hair, and he relished having Rufus’ fingers in it, combing through the long strands, playing with it, scratching his scalp. Tugging it hard while they fucked, his clenched fist tight against Tseng’s head, sharp pain accompanying intense pleasure.

Tseng took a deep breath and once again pushed all thoughts of Rufus to the back of his mind. “I want another drink,” he murmured, leaning in close so his breath tickled the man’s ear. “Shall I get you one?” He ran a light hand over the man’s back, trying not to cringe at how damp his shirt was.

“Mmm. Bourbon.” The man shifted as Tseng hopped off his lap, walking with practiced ease over to the bar in his sky high stilettos. He let his hips sway, the floor-length black sequin gown rustling in his wake as it flared out behind him, and knew every eye at that table was on him.

The dress had been Rude’s choice. Tseng had been perusing a catalogue of possible outfits for the mission, and everything he’d thought would be suitable had been vetoed by either Rude, Reno, or Elena. The dress Rude finally pointed to with a quiet murmur of _that one_ was more loungewear than anything; a heavy, wraparound gown with billowing sleeves down to his wrists and a split all the way up his thighs. Rude had been adamant, and Reno and Elena had agreed once they’d seen more photos of the model. She was tall, slender, with long black hair, and Tseng blushed to imagine himself in it.

When it arrived, Tseng had put it on and stared at himself in the mirror for several minutes, amazed at the sight. Even without a corset to mold him, it gave him the illusion of an hourglass shape, and as he moved, the split revealed a tantalising hint of his upper thighs. The sequins sparkled but not excessively. The fabric was heavy enough that it concealed the tattoos decorating his entire back and down over his ass, yet over his arms it was flimsy and light. The dress shifted tantalisingly over his bare arms and legs, and he shivered.

It was _perfect._ Before he could second guess himself, he took a photo, just a glimpse of the edge of the gown, a hint of thigh peeking through, and sent it without commentary to Rufus.

“Aww, no fashion show?” Reno complained when Tseng emerged from his office dressed in his suit again. His phone had pinged several times as he got changed, but he ignored it, an uncharacteristic bout of nerves twisting his stomach unpleasantly.

Tseng gave him a level look. “You’ll see me in it tomorrow night,” he pointed out.

“Can’t wait,” Elena mumbled, not quietly enough for Tseng to miss, and she quickly turned back to her laptop, her cheeks flaming, when Tseng frowned at her.

“Does it fit?” Rude asked, and Tseng nodded. He made his way back to his desk, running over inventory in his mind. He’d paid a visit to a discreet store in Wall Market the previous day, picking up some very specific undergarments, along with shoes, stockings, jewellery, and a few items of makeup that weren’t already in his collection. 

One more thing, he remembered, and he glanced up at his team. “Elena?” he asked, and she turned, her face still slightly flushed. 

“Sir?”

Tseng cleared his throat. “How are you with nail polish?”

Elena grimaced. “Uh, sir. I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed my nails.” She held her hands up and showed Tseng her bitten-off fingernails.

“I can paint them for you,” Rude offered, and every head in the room turned to look at him. “What?” He peered over the tops of his sunglasses. “I have nieces.”

That was how Tseng ended up, right before his team finished for the day, sitting next to Rude having his nails painted a deep carmine red, a colour Elena had picked up from the shops down in Sector 1. It matched the outfit perfectly, specifically the red-soled stilettos and lipstick he’d bought the previous day, and Tseng couldn’t help admiring the shine when Rude was done.

“Don’t touch them for at least half an hour,” he warned, and Tseng sighed inwardly.

He took a photo of his vivid red nails before putting his gloves back on and sent that to Rufus as well, finally allowing himself to read the messages Rufus had sent in response to his last photo. 

_Tseng_

_is that you_

_that’s hot_

He’d mentioned to Rufus that he had a mission coming up which would require some special preparation, but hadn’t gone into details. He wasn’t sure how Rufus would react to his outfit, but judging from his messages, he was intrigued.

  
  
Tseng caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrored back of the bar as he approached, and he almost gasped as he slid onto a stool and crossed his legs. He barely recognised the person in the mirror; this tall, dark haired, dark eyed woman with vivid red lipstick and nails, sultry and languid. 

It was the makeup. Tseng was used to eyeliner; every morning he outlined his eyes in black pencil, nothing over the top like Reno, but enough to darken his eyes a little. The eyeliner he was wearing tonight was considerably less subtle, with black wings extending out as far as the ends of his eyebrows. He’d gone easy on the eyeshadow, smoking out his lids only a little. Some deft contouring on his cheeks and chin had softened the strong angles of his face, making him look almost androgynous. The lipstick shone in the dim light of the bar, a slick, deep red chrome with a metallic finish to it contrasting sharply with his outfit and hair. A strip of sequined velvet wrapped around his throat concealed his adam’s apple, completing the disguise.

The gown split all the way up the front to the top of his thighs, showing off his lace-topped stockings and straps of his garter belt. Tseng smiled to himself as the bartender’s gaze zeroed in on his legs, raking up and down from the red-soled black stiletto dangling off one foot to the glimpse of bare thigh peeking over the top of the stocking. 

He could understand why women dressed like this. His movement was hindered, his feet hurt, and it had taken him almost two hours to achieve this look, but the way every eye in the room focused on him as he walked past, the way secrets spilled from tongues that should know better, the way Rufus had been sending him ever more desperate requests for photos—Tseng could see the power in it.

“Two bourbons, neat,” he murmured to the bartender, pitching his voice higher than normal. He glanced at himself in the mirror again as he took a sip, careful not to smudge his lipstick, and smiled. Tseng had to admit, he rather liked it, and he hoped Rufus would as well.

He looked back towards the table, firmly turning his mind back to the mission. He’d gotten everything he needed—as usual, the men Corneo employed to do his dirty work above the plate didn’t see a woman as a threat, and the gang leader who had been dandling Tseng on his knee had talked openly about his plans to skim mako from the reactors. He’d even given names, places, and dates, all of which had been conveyed through Tseng’s concealed microphone to Reno and Elena waiting in the van outside.

Tseng picked up both tumblers of bourbon and made his way back to the table, trying to ignore the way his bare thighs slid together under the dress. It was a tantalising sensation, completely foreign to him, and it made him aware of just how little fabric there was between his body and the world. Anyone could slide a hand up his dress with no effort whatsoever, and—

He placed the tumblers down on the table before bending over to whisper in the gang leader’s ear. “I’ll be right back, I need to visit the ladies.”

The man nodded, patting Tseng’s ass as he turned to leave. He wouldn’t be coming back; in about ten minutes, one of the staff who the Turks had paid off would approach the gang leader and inform him that unfortunately, the lady who had been entertaining him that evening had come down ill.

Tseng fought back a smile as he took the back exit out of the underground club, carefully climbing a narrow flight of stairs barely lit by a weak bulb hanging overhead. He only had to make his way back to the surveillance van a few blocks away, and he’d be home free.

His ears pricked up, and he fell into a crouch, one hand sliding up the inside of his stocking to the small knife concealed there. He flicked it open, peering around, and only just managed to duck out of the way as a burly man leaped from the shadows. 

Tseng cursed under his breath; the man was faster than he looked, possibly affected by a Haste spell, and it took all his skill—and not a small amount of dexterity, balancing in his stilettos—to avoid the man’s fists. He was grateful for the high split of the dress as he spun and kicked the man in the face, his heel gouging down one side, and the man screamed.

“You fucking _bitch!”_ he roared, grabbing the hem of Tseng’s dress and yanking it so hard the side seam ripped open. Tseng growled and darted behind the man, grabbing him around the shoulders and swiping his knife across his throat.

There was a horrible gurgling sound, choking wet coughs, and the man, still fighting, turned to grab Tseng.

Tseng deftly took a step back, grimacing as a spray of blood caught him in the face, dripping over his collarbone and down his chest, staining the corset. Filthy hands grappled at his hips, more blood splattering over his stockings, and Tseng kicked the man away in disgust.

He wrapped the remains of his dress around himself and stalked off, furious.

“Oh, shit!” Elena yelped when he arrived back at the van, looking like he’d taken part in a slaughter. “Sir! Is that—”

“Not mine,” Tseng growled, climbing into the back of the van. “Mission went fine, I just got accosted on the way back here.”

“You want to head back to HQ, or should I drop you at your place?” Reno asked, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of Tseng decorated with lace, blood, and a scowl.

“HQ,” Tseng replied. “I’ll make my own way home after I’ve cleaned up and written my report.”

“Sure,” Reno said, tactfully not mentioning that they all knew where Tseng was _really_ going.

  
  
Tseng stared at himself in the mirror. The bathrooms down in the basement were not quite up to the standard of the ones up past the fiftieth floor, and there were stains on the mirrors and in the sinks. The lighting was harsh, fluorescent bulbs casting deep shadows across Tseng’s face and making the blood all over him look almost too red. He looked _feral,_ with streaks of blood decorating his face and his eyeliner smudged on one side from where he’d swiped the worst of the blood away with his hand. His hair was starting to tangle, and he made an attempt at finger combing it back into some semblance of order before giving up and simply tying it back into a high ponytail. He would need to wash it tonight thanks to his mugger, a fact which irritated him immensely.

He sighed and hung the remains of his gown over the top of one of the stalls. It wasn’t too badly damaged, thankfully—his knowledge of the price tag had made him wince when he’d heard the ripping of fabric—but it would need some repairs along the hem down one side before it could be worn again. With some measure of relief, he unclipped his garters and slid his underwear off, huffing out a thankful breath as his cock sprang free from the tight-fitting garment. It had done its job; the only other option to hide the shape of his cock under his dress involved taping, and Tseng hadn’t been particularly keen on that. He exhaled, gently massaging his aching cock and balls for a short while, then refastened his stockings before draping his dress back around himself and making his way to his office.

The lingerie he’d purchased had come with its own set of underwear—a frivolous, lacy thong, which only just covered his cock and managed to wedge itself right into his ass crack. Tseng had initially tossed it aside, but now he withdrew it from his bottom drawer and considered his options.

He had planned to show up at Rufus’ penthouse still looking like the glamourous woman he had been disguised as. He’d imagined reclining on Rufus’ gaudy red chaise longue, a glass of champagne in his hand, as Rufus slid a hand up his leg. Perhaps Rufus would want Tseng to fuck him, or maybe Tseng would hitch the gown up over his hips and let Rufus take him like that.

Tseng stood abruptly and pulled the ridiculous thong up over his thighs before he could second guess himself, grimacing when he realised he’d have to re-fasten his garters again. Pulling out a small hand mirror from his desk, he carefully reapplied his lipstick, a low burn of arousal simmering in his groin as he slid the slick red liquid across his lips, bright and almost garish in the dim light of his office. Feeling a little bit turned on and a lot nervous, he once again set forth, this time heading directly to the private elevator which ran all the way to the 69th floor, reserved for executives only. He was unlikely to meet anyone on the way, but nevertheless he gathered his dress tightly around him. 

Disappointment curdled in his stomach when he swiped his card to enter Rufus’ apartment and found it dark and empty. “Rufus?” he called, his voice echoing off the marble-clad walls. There was no reply, and Tseng flicked the lights on, bathing the penthouse suite in a warm glow.

There was a note on the coffee table, written on thick, expensive notepaper and with the scent of Rufus’ cologne wafting off it. Tseng rolled his eyes; even when leaving a note for him, Rufus went the extra mile. 

_Last minute meeting with Tuesti; wait up for me._

_xx R_

The evening really was not going how Tseng had planned it, and he tossed the note aside, scowling. Needing something to calm his nerves, he grabbed the cigarettes Rufus had left on the table, picked up a bottle of whiskey and a glass from the bar, and made his way to the balcony.

It never got old, looking over Midgar from this height. There was no chance of anyone seeing him, so Tseng tossed the gown aside, enjoying the cool night air on his overheated skin. The corset was starting to bother him, and he tugged the laces free, heaving a sigh of relief when he was finally able to unclasp it.

Dressed in nothing but lace, silk, and black stilettos, Tseng sat back in one of Rufus’ loungers and stared out over Midgar as he lit a cigarette and took a drag before chasing it with a sip of whiskey. The city may be ugly by day, a monstrosity of steel and smog, but by night, lit up by the green glow of the reactors, it was quite beautiful. Rufus spoke about a time in the not so distant future when it would all be his, when he would finally be able to rule the city as he so desired, with Tseng at his side.

Tseng often wondered if it would ever happen; he was cynical, disbelieving that Rufus’ wild plans would ever come to fruition, and he half expected to be killed before such a thing could ever happen. Yet he continued to support Rufus, working with him in the shadows behind his father’s back, risking life and limb for a man he loved beyond all reason.

There were times when he questioned what he was doing, why he was so willing to sacrifice everything he’d worked for for Rufus. The man could be capricious, cold, cruel, and yet with Tseng he was also vulnerable and lonely, loving and caring. Try as he might, Tseng craved every moment he was able to spend with Rufus, unable to resist the sheer magnetism between them.

He took another sip; Rufus had excellent taste in alcohol, purchasing only the finest of champagne and spirits, and Tseng swirled it around in his mouth, appreciating the peaty depth, before swallowing.

Raising his cigarette to his mouth, he breathed deeply of the smoke and exhaled into the night air, watching the smoke swirl and dissipate. His gaze fell on the cigarette held lightly between two fingers; there was a smear of crimson lipstick on the end, as well as on the rim of the glass, and he smiled. 

Behind him, in the apartment, he heard a door open, and Tseng knew from the sound of the footfalls that Rufus was home. His pulse quickened, and he took another drag from his cigarette before tossing back the rest of the whiskey, listening to Rufus move around the apartment. Eventually, he heard the sound of bare feet on smooth tiles padding towards him, and he put his empty glass down as Rufus approached.

Tseng knew how he looked: bloodstains on his face and chest, black lace wrapped around his hips and thighs, eyeshadow darkening his features and a bright smear of lipstick shining in the dim light. He looked up at Rufus, breathing out a thin stream of smoke as Rufus gazed down at him, his eyes wide. He’d changed into a light robe, something white and flimsy and almost indecent, and Tseng smiled, wondering what—if anything—he was wearing underneath it.

“That blood,” Rufus began, his voice tight. “I assume it is someone else’s?”

Tseng nodded, spreading his legs slightly as he continued smoking. Rufus’ gaze zeroed in on his crotch, the way the lace thong strained tight over his cock, and he smiled widely. The anxiety churning in Tseng’s stomach eased, and he preened in the face of Rufus’ predatory examination.

Rufus took a careful step towards Tseng and fell to his knees in front of him in one fluid movement as Tseng shifted, spreading his legs further to accommodate him. Rufus was breathing rapidly, a flush on his cheeks visible in even the pale light filtering through from the penthouse, and Tseng smiled around the cigarette. He’d guessed correctly; Rufus was _very_ interested in this.

“What happened to the rest of your clothes?” Rufus asked. “I’m guessing you didn’t carry out your mission in just this.”

Tseng chuckled and leaned forward, pressing his mouth firmly to Rufus’ in a warm kiss and coaxing it open with the tip of his tongue before exhaling. Rufus closed his eyes and breathed the smoke in, a faint smile wreathing his face when he pulled away, and he slid a careful hand up Tseng’s calf, caressing the silken stockings. 

His mouth was stained with Tseng’s lipstick, and Tseng wanted to lick it off him.

“An unforeseen end,” Tseng murmured, putting his cigarette down in the ashtray next to him and gesturing to the gown and corset left on one of the other chairs. “The mission was successful; I was accosted on my way back. I tried to keep it clean and tidy, but he did insist on tearing my dress and spurting blood all over me before dying.”

“The lace,” Rufus breathed, his hands gripping the muscles of Tseng’s thighs through the stockings. “It’s—” He cut himself off, leaning forward and resting his forehead against Tseng’s abdomen, his hot breath wafting over Tseng’s exposed skin.

“I take it you like it,” Tseng said, amused and not a little relieved. He ran a hand through Rufus’ hair, taking a handful and gripping it tight. Rufus looked up at him, his eyes dark, his mouth half-open as he let out a whimper. Tseng’s cock twitched within the tight confines of the lace; he was already half-hard, and he wanted Rufus _badly_.

“Tseng,” Rufus moaned as Tseng gently guided his head further down, open mouthed kisses trailing down Tseng’s stomach and over the lacy garter belt. It was a shame the sticky red lipstick Rufus was leaving behind wasn’t so visible on the black lace, but Tseng eagerly anticipated seeing it elsewhere on his skin.

“Suck my cock,” Tseng murmured, a thrill rushing through him as Rufus nodded desperately, placing heated kisses over his lace-clad erection, swelling and pushing against the flimsy fabric. The underwear was too small to accommodate a fully erect cock, and the lace was stretched to its limits, barely covering him at all. Rufus made a pleased sound, humming against him, before opening his mouth and licking him all the way from his balls to the head of his cock.

“Want me to take these off you?” Rufus asked, tugging at the waistband of the thong. Tseng shook his head, murmured _not yet_ ; there was something delightfully filthy about having Rufus sucking him through the thin fabric. Rufus hummed again, his hands sliding over the tops of Tseng’s thighs as he licked him again, again, until the lace was soaked.

“You shaved your legs,” Rufus noted, stroking the soft skin above the stockings, and Tseng nodded. It had taken an age, and he’d gone through two razor blades, but he had to admit he liked the silky smooth skin of his thighs, the slight rustle as the silken stockings rubbed together on his bare skin. He’d considered shaving his balls and the hair at the base of his cock, but in the end he simply ran over the area with his trimmer. Rufus liked his hairless legs as well, his thumbs stroking him incessantly as he mouthed the head of Tseng’s cock, and Tseng shivered at the heightened sensation.

Tseng groaned, letting his head fall back as he breathed deep of the crisp night air. Warmth suffused his limbs, burning deep within him and emanating outwards as Rufus worked him over, lightly stroking his balls through the lace and sliding his tongue all over his cock. Tseng picked up the still-lit cigarette and inhaled deeply as his body thrummed with arousal, and he exhaled shakily, a moan accompanying the smoke as Rufus lapped at the head of his cock, licking up the precome soaking through the lace.

There was a slight tugging sensation, then relief, as Rufus pulled the thong down slightly, just enough to free the head of his cock, and Tseng gaped open-mouthed, his cigarette hanging loosely from his fingers, as Rufus’ plush lips encircled him, metallic red lipstick smearing over the head like blood. 

A cool breeze wafted past, raising goosebumps on Tseng’s bare arms, and he shivered. Despite the chill, he felt overheated, a fire burning within his body, coursing through his limbs and making him gasp for breath. Rufus slid his mouth all the way down over his cock, wet and sticky with lipstick, and Tseng grabbed Rufus’ head with his free hand, drawing a shaking breath through the cigarette as he clenched his fist in Rufus’ fine blond hair.

“Enough,” he growled as the heat building within started to reach the point of no return. He was desperate to come, desperate to spill himself in Rufus’ waiting mouth, but he gently pushed Rufus’ head aside and slowly rose to his feet, tossing the burned-out end of his cigarette into the ashtray.

He looked down at Rufus, on his knees before him still, gazing up at Tseng with wide, wet eyes. “Stand up,” Tseng murmured, gently placing a finger under Rufus’ chin. Rufus obeyed with alacrity, and a surge of lust burst through Tseng’s body as the second most powerful man on the planet did as he commanded with no question. 

Tseng couldn’t keep a smug grin off his face as Rufus stood before him, his fine silken robe hanging loose off his shoulders. For months, Rufus had overplayed the small height difference between them, but now Tseng was towering over Rufus by several inches. He leaned down, capturing Rufus’ mouth in a warm kiss, sliding his tongue between his lips and moaning softly as Rufus eagerly allowed him entrance. 

By the time he was done, the red lipstick was smeared across Rufus’ chin, his cheeks, and Tseng reached out to swipe a bit off. He likely looked just as debauched as Rufus and he wondered if there was any of the slick red colour left on his lips at all.

“Tseng,” Rufus moaned, letting his head fall back as Tseng kissed his neck, biting gently at the smooth, pale skin. He slid his hands down Rufus’ sides, relishing the smooth fabric, and when he parted the robe and slipped his hands inside, he was delighted to find that Rufus was wearing nothing at all underneath. Rufus let out a throaty moan when Tseng’s hand encircled his cock, and Tseng caught his mouth again in a greedy kiss as he stroked him, swiping the pad of his thumb over the head and smearing the slick precome gathered there. 

“Turn around,” Tseng said, his voice pitched low and rough. “Hands on the railings.” Rufus obeyed immediately, his hands clenched on the waist high metal railings, the only thing between them and a fall to the plate hundreds of feet below. The wind whipped Rufus’ hair, tousling Tseng’s ponytail and dragging a few strands loose, and Tseng stepped back to admire his lover.

Rufus was panting for breath, his entire body shifting as he let out soft whimpers. Tseng almost wished someone could see them from Sector Zero far below, could see the Vice President with his white lounging robe parted obscenely to expose his hard cock as he waited for Tseng to fuck him.

“Cigarette?” Tseng asked calmly, drawing another one from the pack and lighting up. Rufus shook his head, craning his neck back to look at Tseng, and his breathing quickened at the sight.

Tseng had been trained to use his body as a weapon, be it to maim or seduce. He knew heads turned as he walked through the corridor of the Shinra building, knew the whispers which followed in his wake. Some of them echoed with fear; fear of the Director of the Turks, of the reputation which surrounded him—of assassinations, interrogations, whisper-quiet murders in the darkest of places. But some murmured of lust, of wishing to have him in their beds, of the things they’d make him do.

It made him chuckle; the very idea that he could be _made_ to do anything. He took a drag of smoke, exhaling slowly, and looked with tilted head at the only man who could make him do whatever he wanted.

Tseng would never have dreamed of this a year ago. The ice-cold, cruel Vice President, with his secrets and his smiles. He never could have imagined how pliant Rufus would be in bed, how he would open up for Tseng’s mouth, his fingers, his cock. Not in his wildest dreams would he have thought himself capable of daydreaming about kisses, of languid warm afternoons spent lying indolently in bed on silken sheets, naked limbs tangled together as they shared whispers, touches, and endless, endless kisses.

Tseng should have been worried about how quickly he had fallen for Rufus, and yet no power on earth could have kept him from Rufus’ side.

“Pull your robe up,” he said, his voice soft as the wind whistled around the top of the building, bringing with it the smell of mako. It burned the inside of Tseng’s nose even more than the cigarette smoke, its acrid tang leaving a heavy taste in his mouth. Rufus complied immediately, hitching the soft fabric up under his arms, exposing his pale, round ass to Tseng’s gaze. His legs were already spread, and Tseng took a deep breath before slowly making his way towards Rufus, his heels clicking loudly on the tiles. 

“Did you bring—” he began, but Rufus was way ahead of him, passing back a small tube of lube. Tseng shifted closer, pressing his hips against Rufus’ ass, letting his cock slide warm and wet between them as he slicked his fingers up. Rufus whimpered softly, the sound caught by the wind and blown away, as Tseng gently slipped his fingers in between his cheeks, circling his hole and dipping inside. 

“You're a tease, you know that?” Rufus forced out, shifting his hips, trying to press back against Tseng's fingers. His robe fluttered in the wind, white silk against a black sky, and Tseng chuckled softly. 

“You love it,” he replied, placing the cigarette between his lips and lightly smacking Rufus' ass as he continued to finger him until Rufus was quaking, moaning, bitten off curses vibrating through his body. 

Who would have guessed the Vice President of Shinra had such a thing for being bent over and fucked until he was stuttering out Tseng's name, babbling nonsense around cries of desperation? Tseng still remembered the first time he fucked Rufus, several months ago now—tangled in silken bedsheets after a night of imbibing more wine than they really should have. Tseng had been surprised when Rufus pushed him onto his back before straddling his hips, taking Tseng's cock so deep inside him they were both rendered speechless. Tseng's fingers had left bruises on Rufus' hips, red and purple marks smeared over smooth pale skin. 

Tseng added another finger, finding and pressing hard against Rufus' prostate, relishing the way his entire body shook, the moans that spilled from his mouth, crying out to the empty night before him. Tseng, his heart pounding, sweat beading on his temples, reluctantly removed his fingers and slid his hand over his cock before pressing himself into that tight heat. 

“Oh,” Rufus sighed, his feet slipping ever so slightly on the smooth white tiles beneath him. He adjusted his grip on the railing, straightening up so his back was pressed against Tseng's chest. Tseng kissed his neck, his bare shoulder, and took hold of his hip. 

“Ready?” He breathed in smoke, exhaled it, the haze surrounding them and softening the bright lights from far below. Rufus nodded, and Tseng thrust into him. 

Rufus was loud; he always had been. Moaning and gasping, unable to stifle his sounds as Tseng drove his cock into him. Tseng knew sound carried further at night, and he half hoped Rufus' lust-filled noises were filtering down, all the way down to Sector Zero. Perhaps some workers hurrying home after a busy night would hear him, sharp sounds of desperation echoing through the thin night air. Perhaps they would look up, all the way to the top of the building, and see a pale figure stretched out over the railings. 

_“Tseng,”_ Rufus moaned, the sound piercing Tseng’s thoughts, bringing him back to the here and now. He hummed in response, kissing Rufus’ neck again as he fucked him, the silk of his robe ruched up between them. Tseng growled in frustration and grabbed Rufus’ arms, yanking the robe off him and tossing it aside. This—this was what he wanted, Rufus naked before him, acres of smooth skin for Tseng to touch and admire. He pushed Rufus forward again, bending him over the railing, and sped up his thrusts, feeling his orgasm approaching with all the subtlety of an oncoming train. Gods, he never tired of the feel of Rufus’ ass clenched tight around his cock, that intense heat and slick slide as he took his pleasure. He could hear his own noises echoing in the darkness, stifled whimpers and grunts, the slap of skin on skin.

“I—I can feel the lace,” Rufus murmured, moaning again when Tseng ground his hips up against him, the rough lace scraping Rufus’ ass cheeks.

“Hmm. Like it?” Tseng asked, reaching around and placing the cigarette between Rufus’ lips. Rufus inhaled slowly, filling his lungs, before exhaling in a rush, accompanied by a desperate groan.

“Fuck!” Rufus blurted out explosively, his back arching beautifully before Tseng. “Tseng, I need—I need—”

“I’m here,” Tseng murmured softly, tossing the end of the cigarette aside and running his hand up Rufus’ back, caressing the play of muscles. His other hand slid around his hip, taking hold of his cock—hard, wet, straining in his hand—and stroking it firmly. He could feel Rufus starting to tighten around him, and he yanked him back up towards him so they were once again pressed together, chest to back, nothing between their bare skin but lace and lust.

“Let me feel you come,” Tseng whispered into Rufus’ ear, and Rufus let out a sharp cry, his hips bucking as he spilled over Tseng’s hand. Tseng stroked him through it, reaching his own peak moments later and biting off a shout as he thrust once more, hard, releasing slick and hot inside Rufus.

They were still for a moment, panting breaths the only sound in the still of the night. The wind had died down, a gentle breeze wafting over sweat-damp skin, and Tseng placed a warm, soft kiss on the nape of Rufus’ neck as he slowly pulled out.

“Join me in the shower?” Tseng asked, running a hand down Rufus’ back. 

Rufus turned to face him, tilting his head up and pulling him in for a kiss, his hands ice-cold on Tseng’s face as he coaxed Tseng’s mouth open to allow his tongue entrance. Tseng reciprocated eagerly, lacing his hand tightly in the hair at the base of Rufus’ skull, enjoying the inches he now had on the man.

“Mmm. Good idea,” Rufus said, breaking the kiss and gently nudging Tseng away from him. “I’m fucking _freezing._ ”

Tseng chuckled and turned to pick up his outfit, lying in a heap on a chair. He heard a gasp from behind him and looked back to see Rufus openly staring at his ass.

“Shiva’s tits, Tseng.” Rufus tilted his head, a wide grin on his face. “You should wear a thong more often.”

“I think _not,”_ Tseng groused.

“But the way it frames your tattoo…” Rufus stepped closer, running a hand down the lines of ink etched into Tseng’s back, all the way down to his ass. “And the stockings, the garter belt, the _heels,_ Tseng. Please tell me you’re keeping this outfit.”

Tseng raised an eyebrow as they made their way inside. “It’ll need washing.” He glanced down at the ruined lace covering his softened cock. It was drenched with saliva, precome, shimmers of lipstick. 

“I’m sure we can get your dress mended, too,” Rufus said as Tseng tossed it and the corset down on the settee. “Come on, let’s get that blood off you.” Tseng watched in amusement as Rufus ambled naked through the apartment towards the bathroom, and he finally kicked off his heels with no small amount of relief before following him.

  
  
Rufus’ bathroom was ridiculously large; almost the same size as Tseng’s shoebox apartment down in Sector One. The bath took up almost half of it and required an hour to fill, but it was well worth it: Tseng had passed many an evening up to his neck in hot water and scented bubbles with Rufus wrapped around him, soaking away the aches and pains of his job.

The shower was the most over the top contraption Tseng had ever witnessed in his life, and he loved it. With multiple shower heads, horizontal jets, and a tablet of settings which Rufus confessed he didn’t quite understand, it was one of the reasons Tseng rarely went back to his own apartment at the end of the day. There was nothing quite like standing under the pummelling water, the tension in his shoulders being massaged away as Rufus knelt before him, Tseng’s cock in his mouth.

Rufus cornered him as soon as he entered the bathroom, pressing him against the smooth tiles of the wall and kissing him until Tseng’s head spun. Rufus’ hands slid down his back, over his ass, caressing the lace of his garter belt and the black straps holding his stockings up, and as they kissed, Rufus got to work unfastening each of the clips.

“Oh,” Tseng breathed as those slender fingers caressed the bare skin of his upper thighs, his stockings sliding down. Rufus pulled away and knelt before him, taking each stocking in turn and gently tugging them down Tseng’s legs, his fingers lightly stroking exposed skin as he removed them. Next was the thong, and Tseng helplessly tangled his fingers in Rufus’ hair as he eased it over his cock, kissing the sodden material before sliding his hands around the back and sliding the delicate lace down over the curve of Tseng’s ass.

It had been only minutes since he had orgasmed, yet Tseng felt the fire of arousal begin to burn again, his cock twitching slightly as Rufus’ warm breath caressed him.

“I think,” Rufus mused, sitting back on his heels and looking up at Tseng, “I’d very much like to see you in just the stockings and garter belt next time.”

Tseng chuckled. “If you want,” he allowed, stifling a whimper when Rufus’ hands circled his waist and unhooked the clasps of the belt, casting it aside and gazing up and down the long, lean lines of Tseng’s naked body. 

“Beautiful,” Rufus breathed, nuzzling Tseng’s hip. Tseng stroked his hair, pushing the fine blond strands back, and tugged Rufus to his feet to kiss him.

It felt good to get in the shower after such an eventful evening. Tseng relaxed in Rufus’ embrace as his lover washed him, gliding his soapy hands over Tseng’s body and cleaning off the blood. The hot water pounded down over them, quickly soaking through Tseng’s hair, and he let out a soft moan as Rufus started to wash it for him. 

“You have— _quite_ a lot of blood in here,” Rufus mused, digging his fingers into Tseng’s scalp as he lathered him up. It took several washes to completely remove all the dried blood, and by the time Rufus was done, Tseng didn’t know whether he wanted to fall asleep or fall to his knees in front of Rufus and take his cock in his mouth. 

He managed to hold off until all the suds had been rinsed from his hair, and he promptly turned and pushed Rufus against the wall of the shower, slotting a thigh up between his legs and capturing his mouth in a kiss. Rufus moaned, sliding his tongue against Tseng’s, tasting of bourbon and cigarettes. Slick hands traced lines of desire on slippery skin, and Tseng dropped gracefully to his knees, water streaming down his hair as he nuzzled the base of Rufus’ cock.

Rufus sighed, stroking Tseng’s face as Tseng took his half-hard cock into his mouth, gently sucking and caressing with his tongue as Rufus stiffened up. “Gods, but you look good on your knees for me,” he murmured over the noise of the water, thrusting his hips as Tseng swallowed him down. All too quickly Rufus was pushing him away, dragging him back to his feet and taking his mouth again.

“Don’t you want—”

Rufus shook his head. “I’m not done with you yet.” His eyes were dark, the pupils dilated so much Tseng could barely see the rim of ice blue iris. A thrill raced through him, and they shared another greedy kiss before turning the water off and stepping out of the shower.

“What did you have planned?” Tseng asked, amused, once they were dried off and wrapped up in fluffy bathrobes. His hair lay in a damp mass down his back, and he obediently sat down at Rufus’ vanity to allow him to comb it out.

Rufus paused as he raised the comb, meeting Tseng’s gaze in the mirror. “You seemed a bit nervous tonight.” He started to gently run the comb through Tseng’s hair, and Tseng glanced away.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be into the… the lace.”

“Hmm.” Rufus didn’t elaborate further, continuing his ministrations in silence for a few more minutes before speaking again. “I confess I was a little disappointed.”

“Disappointed?”

Rufus lifted Tseng’s hair aside and kissed the warm, damp skin of his neck. “Disappointed that I didn’t get to see you in the whole outfit.” He ran his hands down underneath Tseng’s robe, sliding them over his chest, briefly rubbing the pads of his fingertips over his nipples before continuing further down.

“I, ah,” Tseng began. “I was irritated. I’d hoped to show you the whole outfit as well. I can wear it again sometime for you, if you like.”

“I will hold you to that,” Rufus purred in Tseng’s ear. “In the meantime, come with me. I have something to show you.”

Tseng had seen the inside of Rufus’ wardrobe. It was an entire room in its own right, and he had wondered how one person could own so many clothes. Tseng had his suits for work, a couple of more casual outfits for wearing when he was home in the evenings, and a nicer suit for formal occasions. Rufus had what seemed to Tseng to be an excessive number of suits, dozens of pairs of shoes and boots, at least fifteen different coats, and an entire rack of lounging robes. Rufus flung the doors of his wardrobe open and headed towards some drawers at the back which Tseng had never seen him open before.

He could have snooped, of course. He’d been alone in Rufus’ apartment enough times that he could easily have stuck his nose in where it didn’t belong, but he respected Rufus’ privacy. His curiosity was piqued now, though, and his mouth fell open in surprise when Rufus opened the top drawer and removed a series of satin bags.

“What—”

Rufus smirked and tossed one of the bags at him. Tseng tugged the drawstring loose and tipped the contents into his hand.

It was white lace. A garter belt similar to the one Tseng had been wearing that evening, but the lace was considerably finer and softer. Tseng ran his fingertips over it and glanced at Rufus, who smirked at him.

“Is there more?” Tseng’s voice was breathless; he envisioned Rufus decked out in nothing but this garter belt, lace top stockings, and a smile, and his breathing quickened.

“Mmm.” Rufus knelt and opened the bottom drawer, carefully removing a corset made of the whitest satin. It was different to the specially made one Tseng had worn as part of his disguise, instead designed simply to cinch the waist, and Tseng added it to the fantasy currently building in his mind.

“Do you—do you want to wear these tonight?” Warmth had flooded into Tseng’s face, arousal pulsing between his legs.

Rufus shook his head. “Oh, I’ll wear these for you one day. But tonight, I want you to wear them for _me.”_

Tseng huffed out a laugh. To think he’d been uncertain; he knew Rufus like luxurious things, frivolous things. “I can do that,” he murmured, the words catching in his throat, rough and husky.

It was strange, to stand in the middle of Rufus’ bedroom before his standing mirror, lit only by warm lamplight, as Rufus dressed him. It was somehow more intimate than having Rufus peel his clothes off, and Tseng found himself becoming unbearably aroused as Rufus fastened the lace garter belt around his waist, warm gentle fingers deft and teasing against his skin. 

Rufus brushed his lips against the back of Tseng’s shoulder, running his hands lightly over his hips, and Tseng couldn’t tear his gaze away from his reflection. Next were the stockings, and he balanced on one leg, his hand on Rufus’ shoulder, as Rufus carefully slid the delicate silk up Tseng’s calf, up over his thigh, and fastened the straps of the garter belt to the lace top.

Tseng’s breath caught in his throat when Rufus moved away, allowing him to see his full reflection. It was obscene, the way his cock jutted out from his body, stiff and exposed and surrounded by luxurious white lace. As he watched himself, breathing heavily, a bead of precome welled up at the tip of his cock, and he struggled to keep his hands at his sides. The blood had been cleaned off his face, but the water hadn’t been enough to do more to his makeup than smear his eyeliner, and Tseng was startled at how intense he looked in the low lights.

“Mmm. Beautiful.” Rufus stood behind him, his hands back around Tseng’s waist, and Tseng let out a soft moan as Rufus ran a finger up the length of his cock before swirling briefly over the head, catching the drop of liquid and bringing it to his mouth.

“Rufus,” Tseng moaned, letting his eyes fall shut and leaning his head back against Rufus’ shoulder. 

“Should I put you in the shoes again, I wonder?” Rufus mused. “No, open your eyes, I want you to see yourself.” Tseng obeyed; he was usually happy to take charge in the bedroom, to tell Rufus exactly what he wanted of him, but now he felt vulnerable, raw, and he clung to Rufus’ commands like a lifeline. Was this how Rufus felt when Tseng was pushing him to his knees, telling him to suck Tseng’s cock, instructing him to finger himself so Tseng could slide into him, to spread his legs like the good boy he was?

He opened his eyes again, his gaze fixed on the tall figure standing before the mirror, black hair damp and tousled as it fell down his back and across his shoulders, eyes dark with eyeliner, mouth half-open as he panted for breath. Cock hard, jutting out from the trimmed patch of hair at the base, contrasting sharply with the delicate lace wrapped around his hips and thighs. 

“I don’t think the black heels will match,” Tseng murmured, his voice hitching as Rufus pressed himself against his back, his robe open, his cock hard against Tseng’s ass.

“I’ll save those for another time,” Rufus agreed, kissing Tseng’s neck again before moving away. Tseng saw him pick up the white corset from where it was laid out across the bed, and he whimpered quietly. 

It was truly a beautifully designed piece. Whereas Tseng’s black satin corset had been functional, this one was made to be looked at. Panels of lace decorated it, with intricate edging stitched across the top and bottom. Tseng lifted his arms as Rufus wrapped it around him, fastening the hooks at the front, taking the opportunity to caress Tseng’s chest as he finished. 

“Ready?” Rufus purred, and Tseng nodded as Rufus began to pull the laces tight, the steel bones slowly compressing his waist.

Tseng watched the transformation in the mirror with wide eyes. Slowly but surely, his waist was cinched tight, and his breathing became shallower with each tug on the laces. Earlier that evening, he’d put the corset on himself, not wanting his subordinates to help, and although he’d done his best, the laces were crooked and he knew he hadn’t pulled it as tight as he could have. 

Rufus gave no such quarter, and Tseng’s breath was driven out of him with each pull until he was only just able to fill his lungs. “There,” Rufus murmured, tying them off and skating his hands down the curve of Tseng’s waist, settling in the dip. “You look _exquisite.”_

“What now?” Tseng gasped. He was so hard he ached, his cock straining, his balls tight, and all he wanted was for Rufus to get him to orgasm.

“I’d like to fuck you,” Rufus whispered directly into his ear, his warm breath tickling. He dropped his hand down to take hold of Tseng’s cock, stroking it lightly. He pressed himself against Tseng’s back, his erection sliding between his ass cheeks, and Tseng moaned, nodding frantically.

They rarely did this; usually Rufus was eager for Tseng to fuck him, but sometimes all he wanted was to lie back and have Tseng straddle him, taking his cock inside himself and riding Rufus until he couldn’t string two words together.

“How do you want me?” Tseng forced out, bucking his hips into Rufus’ too-loose grip.

“Come with me,” Rufus replied, taking Tseng’s hand and leading him to the settee by the window. He sat, pulling Tseng onto his lap, and Tseng went willingly, loving the feel of Rufus’ hands cupping his waist as they kissed. Their cocks brushed together, both of them hard and wanting, and Rufus made a quiet sound as he stroked down the laces at Tseng’s back and then over his ass.

Tseng moaned into Rufus’ mouth, their tongues slick and hot sliding together, as Rufus slid a finger between Tseng’s ass cheeks. He fumbled with his other hand for the lube they’d left on the side table a couple of nights back and slicked his fingers up, and Tseng twitched, gasping for breath as he felt Rufus’ finger slip inside him.

“Gods, if you could see yourself,” Rufus said softly, adding another finger as Tseng writhed on his lap. “Look at you, all dressed up for me, desperate for my cock.” He curled his fingers, finding Tseng’s prostate, and Tseng’s head fell back as he let out a throaty gasp. He was right on the edge, a mere stone’s throw from coming, and he bucked his hips, pressing himself desperately back against Rufus’ fingers inside him, stroking that part which sent bolts of desire rocketing through his body.

“Oh, _fuck,”_ Tseng cursed, and Rufus chuckled.

“Want my cock?” he asked, his voice a low purr in Tseng’s ear. Tseng nodded frantically as Rufus shifted his weight, sliding his cock deep inside him in one smooth thrust.

They both stilled a moment, gazing at each other. Rufus’ face was flushed, his eyes wide, and he took a deep breath before thrusting upwards, once, twice, again. Tseng was adrift on a sea of desire, surrounded on all sides by Rufus, his body beneath him, his hands around him, his voice in his ear and his breath on his face. He felt buoyed by the love he had for this man, so much more than simple lust.

He became lost in sensation; the corset was tight around his waist, preventing him from drawing a full breath, and he started to move, riding Rufus’ cock in a smooth motion, relishing every inch of him as he slid in and out of him. Rufus dragged him in close, pressing their bodies together as Tseng took his pleasure with abandon.

“So beautiful,’ Rufus gasped. “Tseng— _fuck,_ I can’t—” He kissed Tseng desperately, greedy wet kisses almost painful with desire, his tongue slick in Tseng’s mouth, and Tseng moaned around him, his cock pressed into the narrow space between them. He could feel himself leaving streaks of precome on Rufus’ stomach, against the corset, and he jerked his hips harder, faster. 

“I’m about to ruin your corset,” he panted, breaking the kiss long enough to gasp for breath, the corset digging into him as he moved frantically against Rufus. His entire body was afire, heat racing through his limbs, making his knees tremble and his eyelids flutter as Rufus nailed that place deep inside of him which made him want to babble nonsense. 

_“Tseng,”_ Rufus growled, his voice tight, his hands clenched firmly on Tseng’s ass, spreading him wider for his cock. Their rhythm stuttered; Tseng’s breath caught on a moan as Rufus fucked him _just right,_ and he grabbed Rufus’ face, holding him still as he plunged his tongue into his mouth, gasping out words of love as he came in the heated space between them. Rufus followed almost immediately as Tseng clenched tight around him, dragging him down for one final deep thrust as he spent himself.

Echoes of their moans faded, leaving the room in near silence, the only sound their shared gasps for breath. Rufus tugged the laces of the corset free, and Tseng inhaled deeply as the constricting garment fell away.

“You’re a wonder, you know that?” Rufus whispered, nuzzling Tseng’s face and kissing softly down his neck. Tseng couldn’t find words to reply, collapsing against Rufus’ chest, his forehead pressed to his shoulder.

“Any other interests you want to share with me?” Tseng asked, half joking, and Rufus laughed, the sound vibrating through him and into Tseng’s chest.

“Oh, I haven’t even _begun,”_ he replied, and despite himself, Tseng felt a renewed surge of arousal. He tamped it down; he was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go to bed with Rufus wrapped around him. 

Later, after a shared cigarette and nightcap on the balcony, Tseng slid into bed next to Rufus, making his way across the ridiculously oversized mattress to curl up around his lover. Rufus turned to face him, tangling their legs together and holding him close.

“You needn’t be nervous about telling me what you like,” Rufus said, his voice hushed in the quiet dark. “I’m the last person in the world to judge you.”

“Hmm. I don’t even know why I had any doubts.” Tseng tilted his head as Rufus combed his fingers through his hair. “After all, I know those waistcoats you wear have boning in them to give you that tiny waist all the magazines love.”

Rufus’ body shook as he laughed. “I have to wear them now,” he pointed out. “It’s expected. Otherwise we’ll see headlines about how much weight I’ve gained.”

Tseng rolled his eyes. “As if you care what the magazines say.”

They were silent for a moment, idly stroking each other’s hair. “The dress,” Rufus said eventually. “Where did you get it?”

“I’ll send you the contact details of the store,” Tseng replied. “Why?”

“Does it come in white?”

A slow smile crept across Tseng’s face, and he rolled Rufus onto his back, sliding a leg between his thighs as he kissed him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone on twitter and discord who cheered me on writing this. 🥰
> 
> ART: [Tseng in his outfit.](https://twitter.com/NarcisseArt/status/1356725900834971650?s=19)
> 
> [Tseng on the balcony (nsfw ish).](https://twitter.com/NarcisseArt/status/1370490889316012035?s=19)
> 
> If you’re curious: 
> 
> [Tseng’s lipstick](https://www.temptalia.com/product/smashbox-be-legendary-liquid-lip/crimson-chrome/)
> 
> [Nail polish](https://www.opi.com/shop-products/nail-polish-powders/nail-lacquer/an-affair-in-red-square)
> 
> [Shoes](https://www.davidjones.com/so-kate-120mm-20774922)
> 
> [Dress](https://thenylonswish.com/products/the-jasmine-robe-midnight-black)


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